


Stronger Together

by Thei



Category: Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, M/M, also kind of self-harm (but not really as he's not actually doing it to himself), and gains a stowaway, billy stumbles upon something strange in the woods, kind of a stranger things venom au?, no lasting injuries though!, sentient black goo seeking companionship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-10
Updated: 2019-03-10
Packaged: 2019-11-14 23:51:06
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,904
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18062567
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Thei/pseuds/Thei
Summary: Billy stumbles upon something strange in the woods on a Saturday night. And no, it's not the weird creature with too many teeth that Harrington just killed with a bat. It's something way, way weirder.





	Stronger Together

**Author's Note:**

> Have you seen Venom? (If not, you really ought to)  
> I've seen Venom, and my first reaction was that I WANT ONE.  
> Then I started thinking. Venom shares some similarities to the Demogorgon, and what if something similar came out of the Upside Down? And latched onto someone who didn't know about the Upside Down? And who maybe is alone and in need of a new friend/protector/symbiote?  
> ... and this story was born.
> 
> (Written in a frenzy over the course of a Saturday night and a Sunday morning, it's unbeta'd and not my best work, but by JEFF I needed to write it!)

Billy missed California.

He had been missing California since the day they moved, even though he knew better than to keep telling people that. The people here were weirdly protective of their little shithole town, all things considering. Probably because so few of them had been somewhere else; experienced something better.

So. He missed California, like he did every day – but he had _never_ missed it as much as right now.

His Camaro, his baby, wasn’t used to winter in Hawkins, and the low temperatures had caused his baby to cough and give up, and stranded him on the side of the road while he was on his way to a party at some girl’s house. He didn’t remember her name, but Tommy knew her, and everyone was going to be there. He had been looking forward to a Saturday night getting drunk and forgetting that he was stuck in the middle of nowhere for a couple of hours, but by the looks of it, he wasn’t going to make it there.

“Fuck!” he screamed and kicked the front wheel of the Camaro.

Then he felt bad about it. Apologizing out loud to his car, even when no one was around to hear him, was just not something Billy would ever do, but he put his hand on the hood in a silent apology. It wasn’t its fault. It just wasn’t used to the weather, was all.

Neither was Billy. It was fucking cold out here, with snow lining both sides of the road. He could see his _breath_ , for fuck’s sake! He pulled his leather jacket closer and seriously considered closing it – maybe even buttoning up his shirt.

But no. Giving in to the weather would mean letting Hawkins win. And Billy would _not_ roll over for this shitty town. Even though he had to clench his teeth to keep them from clattering.

Well. He’d freeze to death if he stayed here, so there was really nothing else he could do but leave his baby by the side of the road and get to walking. He didn’t think he was too far from a house, where he could borrow a phone and call a tow truck – or just someone to drive him home, because he didn’t really think that he’d get a hold of a tow truck in Hawkins on a Saturday night. And walking would at least keep him warm, so …

Something small and cold hit his nose. Looking up into the dark sky, he sighed. Of course it would start to snow. Of course. With a parting pat to the Camaro’s hood, he started walking.

He’d only been walking for a couple of minutes – and had just tucked his fingers into the sleeves of his jacket to keep them from freezing off – when he heard voices. Not from the road in front of him; from the trees to the left.

He frowned. Who the fuck was out in the woods at this time of night, when it was this cold? Stupid people, that’s who. Which, in this town, didn’t really narrow it down.

The voices came again, and this time they sounded agitated. High. From further in, between the trees, he could see a flickering light – so dim that he almost thought he’d imagined it, first.

Then he heard a scream.

Scowling now, he threw his arms out in frustration and stopped walking. If he didn’t go check it out and someone got murdered, he would probably somehow get blamed for it, with his car being abandoned just a short distance away.

Another scream, and he rolled his eyes and turned to where he’d seen the distant lights. At least if he got murdered, he wouldn’t have to stay in this hellhole any longer.

The hell he’d be in _then_ would at least be _warm_.

Resisting the urge to mutter to himself, he walked through the snowy woods. When he heard some kind of growling mixed in with the – now very distressed-sounding – voices, he hesitated, suddenly aware of that he was walking into a potentially dangerous situation without a weapon.

“Shit, Dustin, on your left!”

His eyes widened. That was Max’s voice! What the _fuck_ was Max doi–

“Get behind me!”

– and that was Harrington’s voice. Because _of course_. Billy should have fucking known. A thrill went through him at the realization that _Harrington was here_ , which turned to annoyance in a heartbeat, because why did his sister insist on hanging out with Harrington in the middle of the woods?

Suddenly angry, and not caring about whatever potential danger he might be stepping into, he made to move –

– and almost fell flat on his face. He would have, if he hadn’t failed his arms and caught the trunk of the closest tree in time. He yanked on his feet, but they were stuck to the ground as if by glue. Looking down, he saw that he had stepped in something that was pitch black against the snow. Even the falling snowflakes seemed to be absorbed in whatever goo he’d gotten stuck in.

Great. This was just what he needed. And he’d worn his nicest pair of shoes for the party, too!

Bending down, he poked a finger into the blackness to see what it was, and simultaneously tried to pull his feet free. His feet didn’t move, though, and when he tried to stand up to examine the blackness on his finger, he found that he couldn’t. His hand was stuck.

He frowned, but had no time to reflect on the weirdness of the situation before the blackness somehow started to move up his finger, and up his hand. It was thick and tar-like, and it was crawling up his arm; he could feel it, like a cold wetness coating his skin.

His heartrate sped up and he tried again, in vain, to pull his arm free. Again, he failed.

Distantly, he noted that the voices and the growling he had heard were coming closer, but that was not his biggest problem right now. No, Billy’s biggest problem was definitely the strange goo that was _climbing up his arm_ and keeping him trapped in one place!

Until a growl sounded, _really_ close, and he found that the puddle of moving tar was suddenly only his _second_ biggest problem, because when he glanced up, he found himself face to face with a whole lot of teeth. He could feel warm breath on his face, and smelled death, but all he could see were teeth. Thousands of them, like the stars in the sky on a clear night.

He drew in a sharp breath, and that made the thing lunge for him. Billy twisted his body just in time, making the jaws (or whatever it was – there were too many of them!) snap shut only inches from his face, but a heavy body slammed into him and pinned him to the ground. He could feel something sharp dig into his chest and he reached out blindly to hit at whatever-it-was –

– when something slammed into it with force, throwing it off Billy with a whine. The voices came back, and this time they were _right here_ , and they were swearing and yelling, and there was a flashlight shining on a dark and slick form that was writhing on the ground, and someone stepped over Billy and raised their arms and brought them down again with a wet _smack_ , and the whining stopped – and all Billy could do was lie on his back in the snow and stare at the … at the _thing_ , that had just been about to eat him.

“What the fuck? What is _he_ doing here?”

“Shit! _Shit!_ ”

“You should have let it eat him.”

“Shut up!”

“Was that the last one?”

“I think so.”

“What do we do now?”

The person who had killed the thing turned around, and Billy was entirely unsurprised to find Harrington standing there, holding a bloody bat casually in one hand and gesturing around him with the other.

“Everybody shut up!”

Strangely – or perhaps not _that_ strangely, because Harrington looked dangerous with that bat and with a smear of … _was that blood?_ … on his face – everyone got quiet. Harrington turned his eyes on Billy with a pinched look on his face.

“Are you okay?”

Billy – who was wholly unprepared for any kind of attention at the moment, especially from _Harrington_ , of all people – nodded mutely.

“Good”, Harrington said, mostly to himself, and dragged a hand over his face. The motion smudged the _blood, definitely blood_ down his cheek, and Billy was randomly reminded of war paint. “Shit. Okay.”

With the blood that contrasted against pale skin, and his hair in disarray, and him holding the bat like that, Harrington was quite the sight to behold – and while Harrington seemed to try to figure out what to do next, Billy distantly reflected that this whole _look_ suited the other boy just fine.

“We should call Hopper!” someone said, and Billy was not at all surprised to see Max when he turned his head. She was standing half behind the Sinclair kid, but not like she was hiding – she looked him straight in the eyes and jutted her chin out, daring him to comment. On the other side of her, he could see that curly-haired kid. Buster, or Duster, or whatever.

A hand appeared in his line of vision, and he looked up. Harrington was holding his hand out to Billy, and when Billy didn’t move, he shook it a little to prompt him into taking it.

“Come on, Hargrove.”

Billy blinked, slowly, and took the hand. Allowed Harrington to pull him to his feet. The world was spinning, and he felt like he was going to be sick. When he swayed, Harrington’s hand shot out to steady him.

“Whoa, hey, are you okay, man?”

Billy took a step to regain his balance, and frowned. He looked down at his hand. It was clean. There was no black goo, no tar, no puddle on the ground – his shoes were snowy, but there wasn’t even a stain on them. He licked his lips, and swallowed hard.

“Did you guys … see that?” he said, not caring that his voice trembled. “Did you see that?”

He felt, more than saw, the rest of them exchanging glances, but he was busy scanning the ground for the weird puddle of moving black glue. His eyes found the body of whatever-it-was that had attacked him, and he went still. He could feel himself starting to shiver, which was weird, because it wasn’t even that cold anymore.

Harrington’s hand was still on his shoulder, and now it gave him a reassuring squeeze.

“Yeah man”, Harrington said, voice low. “We saw.”

Okay, so he _wasn’t_ crazy, then. With effort, he tore his eyes away from the dead thing in the snow, and turned his gaze to Harrington. “What _was_ that thing?”

Harrington made a face that told Billy that he would have been pinching the bridge of his nose if he’d had a free hand, and tried for a smile that looked more like a grimace.

“Look, this isn’t … This isn’t the ideal place for this conversation, all right? We need to get back, regroup, call Hopper.”

The kids around them seemed to agree. Billy just looked blankly at Harrington. This had to be a bad dream, because it sure as shit didn’t feel real.

“How did you get here, Hargrove?”

A question, that cut through the thoughts swirling in his mind. He could answer that. “Walked.”

At this, Harrington gave in to the urge to pinch the bridge of his nose. Billy swayed a little when Harrington’s hand left him, but remained standing, which he considered a great accomplishment.

“Where is your car?”

Another question. What had happened to his car? “It broke down.”

“Okay”, Harrington said. “Okay. You’ll have to come with us, then … My car’s parked down the road. We’ll all go back to the Byers’, and we’ll call Hopper, and then we’ll figure out what to do, okay?”

The kids answered with a tentative affirmative, but Billy frowned. “What _was_ that?”

“I’ll tell you later. We need to get the kids home first. Come on.”

Harrington grabbed Billy’s upper arm and turned him around, using it to steady him on their trek through the woods. Normally, Billy would have objected to any kind of touch, but this whole situation honestly didn’t feel real. He felt like he was under water, or in a nightmare. His brain was swimming with what he’d seen, and he still wasn’t sure that he wasn’t going to throw up. Maybe he’d hit his head when he fell? He felt dizzy. But Harrington’s hand on his bicep was warm, and grounding, and felt nice. _Safe._ So he didn’t shrug it off.

A short while later, he found himself in the passenger seat of Harrington’s car. Max, Sinclair and Buster-maybe-Duster had crammed into the backseat without fuss and were now sitting still and quiet – which was honestly the weirdest thing that had happened tonight, because Billy had heard those kids before and knew that they rarely shut up.

Harrington, too, was quiet during the whole drive, and Billy didn’t have it in him to be surprised when they pulled up in front of the creepy house in the woods where he had found them a couple of months ago. Something weird had been going on then, and thinking back, Billy raised his eyebrows in realization. Monsters and bats and moving black glue. _Of course._ It made sense. _This fucking town ..._

“You wanna come in?”

Turning his head slowly, he looked straight into Harrington’s big brown eyes, and found himself shaking his head. No, he did _not_ want to go in there. Not again.

Harrington sighed, but seemed to have expected that answer.

“Okay”, he said. “Stay here. I’ll make sure the kids are okay, and make a couple of calls. Wait here. I’ll come back soon, and we’ll go somewhere, and I’ll tell you … I’ll tell you what you saw.”

Billy nodded, and watched Harrington herd the kids in through the door. It cast the porch in a warm light for a moment, before the door closed and he was left in the darkness.

He couldn’t stop shivering, but he felt warm, like he had a fever. Probably the shock of whatever it was that had just happened. He rested his forehead against the cold glass of the window and closed his eyes.

 _Teeth._ So many teeth.

He flinched and looked around him. The car was empty. Everything was silent and dark. The only  light he could see came from the windows of the house. Again, he rested his head against the glass. Again, he closed his eyes.

 _Black._ Slithering, crawling blackness.

This time when he opened his eyes, he stared out into the darkness around him and held his breath. He could barely see the dark shapes of the trees in the night, but he knew they were looming over him. He could see the snow on the ground, and a few flakes that were falling on the windshield. It looked peaceful.

_Safe._

On a whim, he rolled down the window. The air was cold, but felt nice against his flushed skin. He stuck out his arm and watched as a couple of snowflakes landed in the palm of his hand. He felt curious, for some reason, and a little giddy – he’d seen snow before, of course, but he had actually never sat down and _watched_ it like this. It was kinda nice.

Before the snowflakes had a chance to melt, he brought his hand to his mouth and ran his tongue over his palm. He could feel the tiny ice crystals turn to drops of water in his mouth, and it made him smile.

He stuck out his hand through the window again, to catch more snowflakes.

A couple of minutes later – or maybe hours, Billy didn’t know or care – the door opened again and Harrington emerged from the house. He said goodbye to the people inside and frowned when he turned towards the car and saw Billy leaning out the window with his face turned towards the sky, trying to catch snowflakes on his tongue.

“What are you doing, Hargrove?” he said as he got in the driver’s seat. “Close the window, it’s freezing in here. Aren’t you cold?”

Billy blinked at him.

“No”, he answered. But he rolled up the window all the same, because he remembered that he _had_ been cold recently. Why wasn’t he cold now? Was it the shock? He frowned.

“What happened?” he asked. “Where are we going?”

Harrington, who had started the car and was staring out through the windshield, glanced over at him. “I figured we’d go somewhere where we won’t be disturbed, and I can tell you … what’s going on. I talked to Hopper, he said I could tell you. But you’ve got to promise not to tell anyone!”

Billy shrugged. “Okay.” He licked his lips. Missed the snowflakes.

“I’m serious, Hargrove. This is serious shit. You can’t tell anyone about any of the things that I’m about to tell you!”

“Sure thing”, Billy said distractedly as his stomach rumbled. “I’m hungry.”

“You’re … what?”

“Hungry.”

Harrington’s eyes narrowed. “Are you sure you’re okay, Hargrove? You’re … awfully calm about all this.”

Deep down, Billy knew he was too calm about this, too, and it was worrying. But at the same time, it didn’t feel real. He felt like he was watching everything happen to someone else; like he was watching a movie. And even though he remembered the wet feeling of a slimy blackness slithering over his skin, and the feeling of a strange creature’s breath on his face, and something sharp digging into his skin, he –

Absent-mindedly, he raised a hand to his chest. His fingers found a rip in his shirt, and scratchy dried blood on his skin … but no wound. His skin was unbroken and smooth.

Weird.

_Safe now._

 “I think I hit my head”, he said, airily, and really should have expected Harrington’s hand that was suddenly fumbling at the back of his head, feeling along his scalp.

“Hmm, you’re not bleeding at least. Do you need to go to the hospital?”

He probably should, to be honest.  But.

“No. I’m hungry.”

He heard Harrington sigh beside him, but didn’t take his eyes off the road. It had stopped snowing.

Harrington drove through town, and they ended up at the only diner that was open until late, on the outskirts of Hawkins. When Harrington had parked his car, Billy got out of it – without swaying – and looked up. There was no more snow, and on one part of the sky the clouds must have dispersed, because he could see stars sprinkled over an expanse of blackness.

Unmoving, glittering stars, like teeth against black death. And they were _beautiful._

He frowned, and shook his head slightly. What?

“You coming, Hargrove? Or should we go to the hospital after all, and get that thick head of yours checked out?”

Harrington winced as soon as the words had left his mouth, as if he expected Billy to get angry. And Billy _should_ get angry, he _knew_ he should, but he had more important things on his mind at the moment. Namely, “Food.”

Harrington rolled his eyes. “Okay then. Come on.”

They went inside, and Billy stopped right inside the door. The warmth of the diner seeped into his skin, and made him itch all over. It felt weird, but not entirely unpleasant. He didn’t move until Harrington waved him over from the table in the corner, furthest from the door.

Billy slid into the booth on the other side of the table, so he was facing Steve. His hands ran over the surface of the vinyl. It felt nice against his skin. _Smooth._

Shaking himself out of the strange sensations, he forced himself to look up as a tired-looking woman materialized by their table and gave them a half-hearted smile.

“Welcome, gentlemen. What can I get you?”

“Uh”, Harrington said and flicked his eyes to Billy. “I’ll just have a coffee, I think. You?”

Billy grabbed a menu and skimmed it. Every word he read made an image pop up in his head, and suddenly he was so _hungry_. He wanted _everything_.

“Waffles”, he said. “Ice-cream. Burger. Milkshake. Pie. Omelet.”

The woman’s eyebrows climbed higher and higher with each word, and Harrington watched him as if he had grown a second head, but his stomach rumbled and he wanted, he _wanted_ , he _needed_ –

“Omelet is just for breakfast”, the woman said. “But the rest, we can do. It’ll take a few minutes, though.”

Billy nodded at her and she gave him a genuine smile before she turned to walk away. Billy looked after her – she’d bring _food_ when she returned – and then turned his attention back to Harrington, who watched him through narrowed eyes.

“Are you high?”

“I don’t know”, Billy said, because honestly? He felt kind of high. Clearing his throat, and trying to clear his mind as well, he focused on Harrington. “Now, what is going on?”

Harrington took a deep breath.

“Okay”, he said. “This is going to sound crazy …”

And Harrington started talking. And he was right, it sounded crazy. A lab, and a world that was upside down, and strange monsters and gates and dead people. It sounded _so_ crazy, but not crazier than anything he’d seen with his own two eyes tonight. It was a good story, though, and he was appropriately entertained by it until the waitress brought Steve his coffee, and Billy his milkshake.

She smiled at them both, but her eyes lingered on Billy. “The rest will be a while longer, I’m afraid. We don’t usually get a lot of food orders this late.”

“It’s fine”, Steve said with a tense smile, obviously wanting her to leave.

Billy wanted her to leave, too. So she’d come back with his food, because he was suddenly _starving_.

When she’d gone, Steve took a break to sip at his coffee. Maybe he wanted to give Billy time to digest what he’d heard so far. Billy didn’t need it, though – he believed everything he’d been told so far, because it was honestly the only thing that made any kind of sense.

That, and it felt _true_.

He also felt like he should be more concerned about all of this.

While Steve was trying to be considerate, Billy put the straw in his mouth and started in on his milkshake. The first mouthful made him moan out loud – startling Steve, who flinched and gave him a weird look – because it was _heavenly_. Strawberry flavored, it was cold and thick and _delicious_ on his tongue. When he swallowed, he could feel the cold in his throat, and all the way down to his belly, contrasting nicely to the way his skin was warming up from being inside. He drank, and he drank, and only when there was a loud slurping noise did he notice that he’d drained the whole thing already. Smacking his lips and taking a deep breath, he gave a contented sigh and smiled.

That was the best goddamned milkshake he’s ever had.

_Best._

Harrington was watching him with a bemused expression over his plain cup of coffee – which was still almost full. “Shit, you weren’t kidding about being hungry, were you?”

**_Hungry._ **

Billy flinched, and looked around them. No one was there but them, even though he could have sworn he heard–

“Anyway”, Steve said, and continued with his story.

By the time the waitress showed up with several plates of food, Steve was winding down. He was obviously waiting for Billy to ask questions, but Billy was once again distracted by the food. The woman barely had time to set the first plate in front of him before he dug in. After that, Billy didn’t hear a word Steve was saying; too busy stuffing his face.

The burger was good, the pie was great, the waffles were amazing, and the ice-cream … the ice-cream made him feel as if something soft was curling around his heart in contentment.

When he had finished everything, he leaned back in his chair and stretched his arms over his head, and gave Harrington a lazy smile when he caught the other boy’s eyes.

He no longer felt as if he was under water. He didn’t feel feverish, or confused. He was warm and full and content and –

**_Safe._ **

– safe. Wait, what?

**_Safe now._ **

“What?” he said, because someone said something.

“What?” Harrington frowned over his – now empty – coffee cup.

“What did you say?”

Harrington huffed. “Dude, I’ve been talking for twenty minutes. I’m not repeating myself. If you didn’t hear it the first time, that’s on you.”

“No, no, I …” He hesitated. “I heard what you said.”

“And?”

“And what?”

“And … what do you have to say about it? I know it can be a lot to take in. To be honest, I’d expected you to call me a liar at least once by now, and try to punch my lights out.”

**_No._ **

Billy winced and shook his head. “No.”

**_Good._ **

What the _hell_ was going on?

“I don’t … I don’t want to do that”, he managed.

**_No punch. Good._ **

_Shit._

“Seriously, Hargrove”, he heard Harrington say. “You don’t look too good. What the hell are you on? Do you wanna go to the hospital? Because I’ll drive you there, just … don’t tell anyone what I just told you, okay?”

Billy could only shake his head. He felt fine, there was absolutely nothing wrong with him, except that he could feel something move under his skin. It didn’t hurt, but it felt somewhat similar to the faint scratchings of putting on a brand new shirt; unfamiliar, yet almost comforting in its familiarity.

“I wanna go home”, he said, and gritted his teeth at the stirrings of _something_ inside him. “Please.”

“Okay, now I _know_ you’re high”, Harrington muttered and reached for his wallet. “You never say ‘please’.”

Wallet. Money. Food cost money. He should pay.

He had barely fumbled his hand into his pocket, though, when he felt something warm on his other hand; the one resting on the table. He was startled to realize that it was Harrington’s hand, on top of his own. Just for a second, though – enough time for Harrington to give his hand a little pat, and say, “I got this”, before he pulled back and took a couple of bills from his wallet.

A part of Billy wanted to say something snide, like ‘is this a bribe, Harrington?’, and it was a relief to feel that part of him again, but the bigger part of him could only concentrate on the part of his hand where Harrington had touched him.

**_Warm. Good._ **

“You can pay me back by keeping quiet”, Harrington said and gave him a significant look.

**_Food. Good. Safe._ **

“Yeah”, Billy said, voice strangled. “Sure. No problem.”

They walked out of the diner, Harrington nodding to the waitress and Billy concentrating on putting one foot in front of the other. Harrington zipped up his jacket when they got outside, but Billy didn’t even feel the cold. Or if he did, it didn’t bother him.

**_Cold. Good._ **

Something stretched out in his chest, like a cat in front of a fireplace, and Billy swallowed hard. Something was very, very wrong, and yet–

And yet.

**_Good._ **

 

***

 ** _  
_** Harrington dropped Billy off outside his house and hesitated a couple of seconds before he said, “So, uh, sometimes it takes time for these kind of things to sink in? So we should probably meet up tomorrow, and go through this again?” It was a suggestion, but sounded like a question. If Billy wasn’t so busy ignoring the strange voice in his head, he would have laughed at the way Harrington looked prepared to be punched –

**_No punch!_ **

– and at the way he looked at Billy as if he was doped out of his mind. But Billy just needed to get inside now, he needed to sleep and wake up tomorrow to find that this was all a bad dream, or a bad trip, or just a bad fucking night.

So Billy simply nodded and said, “Sure.”

Harrington gave him a suspicious look. “You can come by my house, maybe?”

Billy pointedly ignored the pleased humming in his chest and nodded again. “Yeah. Whatever.”

And with that, he turned his back on Harrington, and Harrington’s car, and all the troubles that Harrington currently represented. He heard the car drive off behind him as he walked up to the house, and his hands were shaking when he fumbled the key out of his pocket to unlock the door.

In his haste to get inside and forget that this evening even happened, he forgot about Neil. Forgot that Neil had asked him where he was going earlier, and that he’d told him that he was going to a party, and that Neil probably wouldn’t expect him home until later. Forgot, for a moment, that Neil would still be awake, sitting in front of the TV in the living room.

So when he’d stumbled into the hallway and closed the door behind him, he turned around and was face to face with Neil. His heartrate picked up and he took a step back out of instinct, before his heartrate abruptly went back to normal and he could feel himself straighten up.

If Neil noticed his change in demeanor, he didn’t say anything.

“Back already, Billy?”

Billy blinked and tried to ignore the vibrations in his chest, which had gone from humming to something with a much lower pitch. He wet his lips.

“Yeah, my … my car broke down.”

Neil took a step closer to him, and he backed up another step. He would have taken another couple of steps back and averted his eyes – but suddenly he couldn’t move his feet, and he kept his gaze firmly locked on his father’s, even though he tried to look away. But _his body wouldn’t obey him_.

Neil noticed, this time, and frowned.

“Your car broke down?” he repeated.

The vibrations in Billy’s chest got louder, but he swallowed and nodded, still without being able to look away. Neil watched him for a couple of tense seconds, before he gave a sharp nod.

“Well then. You have all day tomorrow to get it back and fix it.”

Billy breathed out a sigh of relief and relaxed a fraction when the strange hold released his feet. He shuffled back a step and nodded. “I will, dad.”

Neil gave him a look, but Billy didn’t think he’d fucked up too badly. This was not a ‘sir’-situation. The danger was over.

But then Neil patted him on the shoulder, and without meaning to – _without actively making the decision to move_ – Billy slapped his hand away.

**_Bad._ **

Neil’s eyes darkened, and the strange vibrations in Billy’s chest got louder – they sounded like growling, now, and they were so loud that Billy thought that Neil must hear them. Neil had Billy pushed up against the wall in a heartbeat, and Billy could feel the hand gripping his face. More importantly, though, he could feel the way his own hands were twitching, as if they were eager to wrap themselves around Neil’s throat and _squeeze_.

**_Bad. Hurt._ **

“No!” he panted, eyes wide. “No.”

Neil sneered at him, disgusted by his apparent weakness, but Billy’s fingers stopped twitching and whatever was within him, which had been preparing to pounce, reluctantly relaxed. He could _feel_ the reluctance, and how fucking scary was that? Then the muscles in his arm tensed.

**_Bad. Punch!_ **

“Don’t!” Billy gasped, and could distantly feel Neil’s grip on his face harden. He knew what would follow.

A second later, his head snapped to the side and he fell, catching himself on his hands and knees on the hallway floor. Neil was saying something, but he didn’t listen. Instead, he licked his lips and tasted blood, and something flickered a bright white in his mind. He _knew_ he was supposed to stay down until Neil had stopped talking, or left, but –

**_Hurt. Hurt you. Hurt him. Punch._ **

– _oh boy_ , that was harder than it had ever been. He squeezed his hands into fists and dug his fingernails into his palms, staring down into the carpet, murmuring to himself, “No, stay down. Stay down. Please.”

He didn’t know what the fuck was going on, but there was something inside him that was pissed enough at Neil to want to risk a real beating, and he wasn’t having it. He did _not_ need that right now, not after the night he’d had. So he gritted his teeth and pressed his forehead to the floor and closed his eyes. He felt the vibrations in the floor when Neil turned and walked back into the living room. Billy waited a couple of breaths before he even dared to look up. He was alone again, and he got to his feet and stumbled into his room as fast as he could. Closed the door behind him. Slid down to the floor, with his back against the door.

Only then did he dare to freak out.

“What the fuck?” he whispered and rubbed his hands over his face, not caring about his aching jaw. “What the _actual fuck_?”

**_Billy._ **

He let out a slightly hysterical laugh that bordered on a sob. He was going insane. Either that, or someone had slipped him some really fucked-up drug without him noticing, and he was tripping. Or he’d hit his head worse than he’d thought.

Without even getting off the floor, he walked on all fours over to his mirror on the other side of the room, and cautiously peered into it. He looked … normal, if a bit freaked out. Carefully, he put a hand on the back of his head, searching for a bump or a gash or anything to indicate that he was concussed. He found nothing. The only injury he had was his split lip, which was bleeding a little.

When he looked at the blood in the mirror, he suddenly found he couldn’t look away. A fascination that wasn’t his own rose in him like a tidal wave, and his tongue darted out to taste it before he could stop himself. He raised his hand to press two fingers to his bleeding lip, and a whine escaped him when he felt the pain of it.

**_You hurt._ **

In the mirror, he saw – with growing horror – how his fingers turned black. His heart started beating madly, and he squeezed his eyes together, shaking his head.

_This can’t be happening, this can’t be happening, this can’t be happening …_

When he opened his eyes, he had scooted backwards on the floor so he was sitting with his back to the bed. He was hunched over, knees drawn up close to his body, and his hands were shaking.

He held them out in front of him. At least they weren’t black.

Just a hallucination, then. A trick of the mind. He was just tired. Or drugged. He should get some sleep. And tomorrow, he would wake up to one hell of a hangover, probably, to find that this had all been in his mind. Yes. Get some sleep. Figure it out in the morning. Sounded like a plan.

**_Good._ **

Ignoring the voice that was most certainly some kind of drug-induced hallucination, Billy climbed into bed, without even taking off his jacket or his shoes. He buried his face in his pillow and tried, desperately, to empty his mind of any and all thoughts, so he’d be able to fall asleep faster.

**_Sleep._ **

He slept.

 

***

 

He blinked awake the next morning, and at first he couldn’t figure out what was wrong. But then it hit him; there was sunshine shining in through his window, and a bird was chirping happily from the rooftop outside. It was late!

He sat up in bed. Sometime in the night he must have gotten up and removed his clothing, because he was only in his underwear now. His shoes were neatly placed by the window, and the rest of his clothes were in a pile on the floor next to them. He was still wearing his watch, though, and it told him that it was a quarter past nine, already.

His eyes grew wider. He never slept this late, even on a Sunday. Neil expected him to accompany the family to Church on Sundays, and now he would have missed it. Neil would be fucking furious with him when they got back!

But … Why hadn’t Neil just dragged him out of bed, like he normally would have?

Billy glanced towards the door, as if the mere thought of the man would make Neil appear in the doorway. What he saw didn’t make any sense at all. A large wrench, that Billy was _sure_ had been in the trunk of his car, was jammed behind the door handle and _into_ the wall by the door. _Into it_. Like someone had Hulked out and smashed through the doorframe and into the drywall. Making it impossible for anyone on the outside to get the door open without using considerable force.

Who–?

**_Billy._ **

He froze. Okay, so yesterday hadn’t been just a fever dream, then? Or maybe he was still hallucinating.

**_Hi Billy._ **

At least his hallucination had manners.

“Hi …?” he said, voice rough.

Something pleased shot through him, and disappeared before he could examine it more closely. He hesitated, and then he got out of the bed and slowly walked up to the mirror. And he really, _really_ wished he would have been surprised at the way his left hand flew up and waved at him; fingers black. But after last night, all he could muster up was an empty stare and a feeling of _okay, so this is happening._

**_Hi Billy._ **

He turned his head, slowly, to look at his left hand.  Yup, his fingers were still black. His whole hand, actually. As he watched, though, the blackness seemed to seep into his skin, until it just looked like his hand again. He felt as if he should be freaking out, but his heart was still beating steady.

**_No need to freak out._ **

“Okay, sentences”, Billy muttered and nodded at his reflection, eyebrows raised. “That’s new.”

**_We’re good._ **

The voice was deep, but wasn’t really a voice. He _felt it in his head_ , more than he heard it, and it was more like a _meaning_ than actual words.

He licked his lips, and that’s when he realized that his lip – which had been split and bleeding when he went to bed – was healed already. In fact, there was no trace whatsoever that it had even been split at all.

Billy frowned, and felt around it. No pain.

**_We’re good._ **

This time, the voice-that-wasn’t-a-voice felt smug, and Billy shook his head in disbelief.

“What did you do? _What are you?_ ”

Ignoring the fact that he was basically standing in front of a mirror and talking to himself, he waited for an answer.

**_I am you. We are us now._ **

“Okay”, Billy said, blinking. “That makes no sense at all.”

**_We are stronger together._ **

“That wasn’t my question. _What are you?_ ”

Images flashed in front of his eyes, of a dark place with slimy trees and a strange kind of light and some huge omnipresent creature in the sky that sparked fear in Billy’s bones. Something about the images seemed familiar, and he heard Harrington’s voice from the night before drone on and on about some kind of upside down world.

**_Yes, same._ **

“And you?”

Less images, and more feelings this time. Some kind of slimy existence, oozing and slithering, cold and hunger, _so hungry_ , and then a rip in reality – a new world, a world where it _couldn’t breathe_ , it was dying, and it couldn’t find its way back, so it lay there, dying, until Billy.

**_Billy._ **

It sounded like fondness in Billy’s head.

“No”, Billy said and took a step back. “I don’t– I don’t want this.”

**_I brought you a present._ **

Frowning, Billy stopped. He _knew_ , somehow, that he was supposed to look out the window, and when he finally did, his mouth dropped open. His Camaro was standing on the lawn right outside his window – had been pushed there, judging by the small mountain of snow that had piled up around the front of it.

**_Baby._ **

“How did you–?”

 ** _Pushed it._** Now the thing felt _smug_. **_Stronger together, Billy._**

“Okay, wait”, Billy said and returned to the mirror – because talking to the mirror felt slightly better than just talking straight out into the air. “So you, what? Got out of me and pushed the car back while I was sleeping? I thought you couldn’t breathe here?”

A somewhat guilty pause, before the answer came.

**_We pushed it. You slept._ **

Billy suddenly felt cold all over.

“You … you took control of my body while I was sleeping?”

He could feel, and see, himself nodding.

“No!” he said, sharply. “That is _not_ okay!”

Suddenly, he was brought to his knees in front of the mirror, and he saw one of his hands curl into a fist and smash into the mirror. It shattered, and the pain of the glass that cut into his hand made him cry out.

His bleeding hand reached out and picked up one of the larger shards, and he realized with horror where this was going. But he couldn’t stop it – he was forced to watch as he held the shard to his other arm and cut into his own flesh, from his wrist to the crook of his arm. Blood welled up immediately, and started dripping down on the floor, and the pain made his eyes tear up. He couldn’t make a sound, though – if he could have, he would have cried out again.

When it released its hold on his body, he dropped the shard and curled up on the floor, shaking; holding his arm and trying to stop the bleeding.

**_Don’t worry._ **

“What?!” Billy snarled. “I’m _bleeding out_!”

**_No we’re not._ **

Billy opened his mouth to argue, but a tingling feeling in his arm made him look down. While he watched, his arm turned black and something thick and slimy seemed to emerge from his skin. It gathered around the edges of the cut and somehow merged itself together, and Billy was treated to the sight of the wound closing up in front of his eyes. The pain lessened, and when the blackness disappeared back into his skin, it left his forearm uninjured, like it had never happened. There wasn’t even a trace of blood left, except for on the floor beneath him, and on the shattered mirror.

His hand had healed, as well, from the small cuts. He opened and closed his hand a couple of times, and didn’t know what to believe.

**_I can help you._ **

His hand reached out to grab a bottle of cologne from the crate he kept as a vanity. And in a second, he had shattered it – simply by squeezing it really hard. The sharp smell of the cologne reached his nostrils even as the new cuts in his hand knitted themselves together.

**_We are better together. Stronger together. No one can hurt us when we’re together._ **

An image of Neil, standing over them, flashed in front of Billy’s eyes, and he shuddered.

“That’s my _dad_.”

**_He hurt us._ **

“No. I mean, yes, but–“

**_He won’t hurt us again._ **

“Okay, wait–“

**_I need you. You need me. We can help each other._ **

“Stop.” Billy held up his hand to put an end to all of this, whatever it was. “You can’t just … take over like that. That’s not how we do things here.”

**_We?_ **

“I mean. That’s not how things are done.” He bit his lips, and glanced towards the door, where the wrench was protruding from the wall. “Did you do that, too?”

**_We needed to sleep._ **

“All right then.” He swallowed, and rubbed his forehead. “You say you need me. Why?”

**_I can’t live in this world without sharing a body._ **

“So go back to your own world!”

 ** _I don’t want to. I like it here._** Images of a dark, damp world, and feelings of solitude and hunger, and then; **_This world has warmth._** The diner, and Harrington’s hand on his. **_Food._** Waffles, pie, ice-cream. **_Milkshakes._** Cold to soothe from within. Billy could feel a pleased shudder run down his spine.

 **This world has you.** The relief of not being alone anymore, and that wasn’t just the feelings of the thing inside him. Billy had been lonely, too, and hiding it under a thick layer of anger, so he wouldn’t have to admit it to himself. He still wasn’t too happy to be reminded of the fact.

**_We are the same, you and I._ **

“No, we’re not. Find another body!”

**_I don’t want to. We fit._ **

Billy picked up a piece of the broken bottle and flung it at a shelf full of books, making two of them crash to the floor. “Well I don’t want it! But that doesn’t matter to you, does it? You can just take over my body anyway, so why the hell are you trying to talk me into this when you can do whatever you want?!”

**_Because I don’t want to._ **

Billy laughed at this, a bitter laugh without an ounce of joy.

“You don’t want to. What the fuck _do_ you want?”

**_I want to co-exist. With you. I like you, Billy. We are the same. We are strong. But together–_ **

And Billy _knew_ what was coming, so he finished the sentence with a tired sigh. “–we are stronger. I know. You keep telling me.”

**_We are survivors. Together, we can do more than just survive._ **

“And if I refuse?”

Silence, for a couple of seconds. Then, **_I will leave you._**

“Really?”

**_Yes._ **

“Then I want you to leave me. Right now.”

At first, nothing happened, and Billy opened his mouth to call the thing on its lie – but then something cold enveloped him, and when he looked down he could see the black tar ooze out of his skin and down his chest, down his legs, down to the floor. It was moving slowly, dragging itself across the floor towards the window, like some kind of nightmare slug.

As Billy watched, open-mouthed, the thing slowed down and seemed to lose its shape. It almost seemed to be melting, and soon it mostly resembled the puddle of goo that Billy had stepped in in the forest last night.

When it had, apparently, been _dying_.

Alone.

After ending up in a new world.

Where it didn’t know anyone or anything.

“Fuck it”, Billy said with a sigh. Perhaps they really were the same. He looked down at the pathetic puddle on the floor, and couldn’t believe what he was about to do. Before he could change his mind, he reached down and put his hand in the middle of the goo.

Nothing happened.

“Come _on_ ”, Billy said, testily, and was rewarded with the now familiar cold tingle of the thing seeping into his skin. When the puddle was gone, he stood up.

“Okay, you can stay” – something warm and pleased blossomed in his chest, and he tampered down on it – “ _for now_! But we have to lay out some ground rules, okay?”

There was a silence in his head that he took to mean ‘go on’, so he did.

“First, you can’t take over my body without my permission. That’s _not_ okay, _ever_.”

**_What if we are hurt?_ **

“– fine, unless we’re hurt and I can’t consent. Okay?”

**_Okay._ **

The thing felt pleased, and Billy realized that he’d referred to them as ‘we’. Shaking his head, he continued, “Secondly, we have to keep this a secret. We can’t tell anyone.”

An image of Harrington flashed before his eyes, no doubt put there by the thing, and he frowned. “What? You heard what Harrington told us yesterday. About the lab and stuff. We don’t want to end up there.”

**_We could tell him._ **

“We – _what_? No.”

**_We could. We like him._ **

“Wh– Shut up. No."

**_Safe._ **

“We’ll see, okay? Thirdly, we can’t go around showing off that kind of strength in public.” He nodded towards the wrench in the wall. “Someone will know something is up.”

**_Only for emergencies._ **

“… maybe. And also, we can’t hurt anyone.” There was a low growl in his chest, and he _knew_ the thing was thinking of Neil. “This is not negotiable. If you’re gonna stay, you have to promise not to hurt anyone. Because if you do, they’ll find us, and they’ll hurt us.”

He was hoping that the use of ‘us’ would make it feel less bloodthirsty.

**_We can hurt them back._ **

“No. We can’t take them on.”

 ** _We could._** Now it felt _petulant_.

“Those are my terms.”

**_If someone hurt us first, then can we hurt them?_ **

Billy sighed. “I don’t know. It depends. Only if it’s serious. How about this; ask first, okay?”

A pause, then, **_Okay._**

“Then we have an agreement?”

**_Yes._ **

Billy dared to give a little smile. This was by far the craziest thing he’d ever done, and he’d done a lot of crazy things in his life. Still, it didn’t feel too bad. “I’d shake your hand, but as we’re sharing a body …”

**_Wanna see something cool?_ **

“Uh. Yeah, sure?”

He felt a nudge in his mind, and stood up – appreciating that it hadn’t taken over his body to do so, but had let him do it himself – and righted what was left of the mirror. Only the top half of it was still even in the frame, and it was cracked and falling apart, but he could still see himself in it.

**_Ready?_ **

“Ready.”

And in a second, he could feel himself being enveloped in the chilly blackness, and he could see his form change in the mirror. It was almost too fast for him to be able to keep up, and all too soon, he was looking at something that would have made him run screaming if he had seen it in the forest before yesterday. Their form was taller, stretched out, almost black, with long legs and long arms and clawed hands. He looked at their new form, but he didn’t feel any different. No pain, no discomfort. He was still in there. Only, it had been right. They were stronger like this.

**_Cool, huh?_ **

He snorted. His head was still his, on top of this strange, new body, and it looked so, _so_ weird. “Yeah.”

**_Watch this._ **

Slowly, although Billy suspected it was mostly because it didn’t want to freak him out, something dark came out from behind his head. Five flaps, with so, so many teeth, slowly wrapped themselves around his head. He could feel the black goo cover his skin just before the teethed flaps closed over his face.

It should be dark, but strangely, he could still see. Or sense, at least. Either way, he felt … safe. Protected.

_Complete._

They opened their face, and the roar mixed with Billy’s yell. And then, the flaps folded back around his head and the blackness disappeared back into his skin. Seconds later, he was looking at his own reflection in the broken mirror. He patted his face, his chest. Then he laughed.

“Okay, that was … pretty cool. But rule number five; we can’t do _that_ where people can see.”

Something like agreement, tinted with amusement.

A noise from the front of the house had them turn. A car on the driveway. Voices. No doubt Neil, and Susan and Max, coming home from Church.

Billy looked at the wrench in the wall; at the broken mirror, and the blood on the floor, and the puddle of cologne and shards of glass. He made a face.

“We should get out of here, for now.”

Picking up his clothes from the pile by the window, he started putting them on, and he heard the front door open and close just as he pulled on his shoes and opened his window. The air outside was cold, but he found that he didn’t mind anymore.

 _They_ didn’t mind.

A memory of Harrington from last night popped up in his mind. _You can come to my house_ , he’d said. And well, it wasn’t like they had anywhere else to be.

He could feel a thrill at the prospect, and didn’t know if it was his own or theirs. It didn’t matter.

“We’ll to go Harrington’s”, he said, even though he knew that it knew already. “He explained things yesterday. Now, I think we have some more questions for him.”

**_Good._ **

They grinned. “And maybe we owe him some explanations in return.”

Before they jumped through the window and out in the snow, Billy looked back with a wince at the mess that was his room. He could imagine how Neil would react to that, especially if Billy disappeared right now.

**_Problem for later._ **

A mental shrug, and Billy found himself laughing. “I can already tell you’re gonna be trouble.”

It laughed with him. **_No, Billy. We. We’re gonna be trouble._**

**Author's Note:**

> Awww, the Upside Down goo just wants a friend! <3 And Billy needs someone on his side.  
> And naturally, they both like Steve, because what's not to like? He bought them a MILKSHAKE, for fuck's sake.


End file.
